Unchanged
by ashion
Summary: 09' In the aftermath of the battle in Egypt Ratchet takes out his frustrations on a mech who should be dead.


_This prompt is from The Third Annual Holiday Ficlet Exchange (community . livejournal . com/tfic_contest / 27768 . html#cutid1)_

_Max number of words allowed was 1,000, I came in just under at 883._

_23. Continuity: movie  
Characters/Pairing: Ratchet/Optimus Prime  
Prompt/Premise: This won't hurt...much  
Preferred Rating: any_

_This is my drabble response_

"This won't hurt…"

The flatly spoken words precede the low groan of strained metal.

"…much."

A quick wrenching twist draws a barely contained pained grunt from the large mech. The other simply smirks humorlessly as they examine the shattered, blackened piece of outer armor that had been wedged into a cluster of neural impulse relays.

"Never going to learn are you."

The words are muttered coldly in their native language, directed more to himself than the one sitting patiently under his sometimes less than gentle ministrations. Deep seated frustration drives him to handle the delicate tasks he is currently undertaking with rough, sharp movements favoring speed over any attempt to keep his patient comfortable.

"I would ask what was going through that thick plated processor cortex of yours, but I know the answer already… everything concerning the boy and NOTHING about your own safety or how in well over your head you were."

The only response he receives is a slight turn of his patients helm the corner of intense blue optics briefly meeting his, shaky energy field reaching out brushing against his. Not intruding, just letting them know he is there and understands.

Long experience working and living with the other means they know better than to speak when the medic got himself wound up like this. The best thing they could do now was follow the medic's orders and let him vent.

Shunting a harsh out-vent the chanteuse green mech drops the shards of twisted dead metal upon the small pile collected on a camouflage patterned tarp at his side in the mostly compacted desert sand. He stares a moment at the mix of various pieces of dead metal, torn and burnt cables, fluid lines and wires, bits of fried neural strings and others bits of debris all covered in small spots and smears of luminescent blue and slightly translucent reddish purple fluids.

A small shudder passes through his frame staring at all the scrap that he had removed from a mech who only hours ago laying inert, cold, no readable energy field and spark casing split open and dark. All the classic signs of a terminated mech. He should know. He's pronounced so many well beyond help or already gone he stopped counting some time ago.

By all rights this mech should not be sitting here so calm, so damnably patient and quiet. A wavering but steadily solidifying energy field surrounds them, warmth curling through once cold plating that even earths sun couldn't warm past the surface and the barest hints of spark light showing through the gaps in slowly repairing protoform plates and webs of vital lines, cables and wires.

He shouldn't be here. His energy field shouldn't be curling against the green mech's silently offering comfort, stability and an outlet for the others now wildly erratic energy.

Long tapered yellow-green and silver fingers curl into the gaps around the other's flame decorated shoulders. Bunt fore-helm coming to rest against the base of the others neck supports.

"I swear to the Allspark if you EVER do anything as fragging stupid and processor glitched as that ever again I will strap you down to the nearest surface and disable you motor relays!"

The fingers tighten their grip as the medic tries to contain himself, vocals beginning to waver under the strain of the hollow pit of fear and sorrow still eating at his very spark.

"Do I make myself clear?"

The other simply nods, energy field expanding to encompass the others absorbing all the anger, worry and fear smothering it with their own indomitable calm and deep felt want to relieve the others spark felt pain.

A large silver hand comes to rest over one of those gripping so tightly to their armor plates the dense, durable metal starts to groan in protest. A long empty silence pervades for several minutes as the medic lets the other take in everything he can throw at them, bombarding their still weakened energy field with every last bit of pain, frustration, anger and fear he has been holding in for the last day and a half.

He feels them out-vent softly, prompting a sharp cough from the dust and grit still clogged in his intakes.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Ratchet, for causing everyone so much pain."

The medic shuts another harsh out-vent sitting back to check his work progress. There was still some more debris to clear out but the worst was done. They give a derisive snort before relying.

"Yes… you hurt me, you hurt us doing what you did… but I understood, no matter what may have been said I understood. It's just the way you are. Just don't do it again… please… Ironhide and I make the worst replacement Commanders."

This draws a low hum from the large mech, energy field flushing with both amusement and a sense of internal serenity the likes of which Ratchet had never felt before in their presence.

"It would have worked out alright in the end… I'm sure of it."

Always the optimist, but then again someone had to be in the hell of war; Ratchet muses returning to his work now exceedingly glad to have them here to boost his flagging resolve like no other while still frustrating him to no ends.

END

_May add some more at another time cause the ending bugs me something terrible since I was getting antsy to meet the last deadline for the challenge and just get this finished. _

_This loosely falls into the same verse as my OLD Upheaval fic which I still have an unfinished additional chapter for._


End file.
